The Small Painting
by Seffora
Summary: Carver becomes a Grey Warden and is having difficulty accepting his new life. The Grey Warden Commander Mahariel in Amarathine decides to talk to him and learns that Carver not only knows her old clan, but has feelings for one of them. Part of DARBB 2013.


_Author's Note: Here is where you can see the picture this story is dedicated to on thighhighdalish's tumblr: post/57049344467/this-is-my-submission-to-the-reve rse-dabb-i-have_

_thighhighdalish tumblr com /post/57049344467/this-is-my-submission-to-the-rev erse-dabb-i-have_

_Just add dots._

* * *

The wind whipped around the group of people walking along the road, swirling their cloaks against their bodies. The blue and grey armor shined dully in the pale sun of the morning. Each soldier was actively looking around them, alert for any danger that may approach. All of them except the man in the back. His head was downcast as he watched where he walked along the rocky road.

_Idiots,_ he thought._ Amaranthine is the safest place in Ferelden. Nobody is going to attack us on the road to Vigil's Keep. Certainly not any darkspawn._

Carver Hawke grumbled under his throat at the dry Grey Wardens; tired of their need for constant vigilance.

Their leader turned his head to examine his newest recruit. He had survived the Joining and been a pain in the side since. Stroud shook his head and looked back towards the approaching Vigil's Keep in the distance. The boy was young and stubborn and still held resentment towards his sister who they had left in the Deep Roads. He was sour and scowled at all of them, staying silent in the back of the group until night fell. Then he would drink himself into oblivion and talk about how much of a pain in the ass his sister was, how he had lived in her shadow for too long, and how he would show her. Show her what, no one ever found out. He would continue ranting until right before he fell asleep when he would whisper, "I miss Kirkwall."

Yes, Carver Hawke was stubborn, but Stroud was confident that with a little discipline and patience he could turn him into a fine Grey Warden. He glanced back at the sour young man. Perhaps a lot of patience.

They wound their way up the road to the Keep, it's dwarven walls looking indestructible in the grey light of the morning. They would stay in Amarathine a week before continuing to Denerim to see the new Grey Warden compound the King was building. Then, Stroud would stay there awhile until the First sent him a message telling him to head to Orlais. It could take months, but eventually that's where he and his most trusted Wardens would go.

They entered the large courtyard of the keep where many people were shopping at the makeshift stalls set up for market day. There were blacksmiths hammering, bakers cooking, shop keepers yelling about their wares at the people passing by, horses, cows, dogs, and even cat noises mixed in with the people chatting amiably. It was market day and, in Amaranthine, Vigil's Keep was the best place to trade. Stroud and his companions walked through the crowd, gently moving some shoppers aside as they made their way towards the doors of the Keep. Two guards nodded to them as they entered. The whole courtyard had quite a few guards watching over the shoppers and word spread quickly that the Commander of the Grey and Arlessa of Amaranthine tolerated no crime in her Keep.

The cool halls of the Keep surrounded them, shutting off the sounds of the market. Carver looked around at the old stone and wood interior of the Keep. They were met by a servant who escorted the group of soldiers to their end of the guest quarters.

"Specially set aside for any Grey Wardens that visit."

She then told Stroud that the Commander would like to speak with him after he had settled.

Stroud spent some time cleaning up after their journey and took off his heavy armor, putting on a light leather vest to wear within the Keep. He kept his sword strapped on his side, as one never knew when that could come in handy, and prepared to go meet the Commander.

The Commander's office was on the first floor down a hallway from the large main antechamber; where the Commander often met with nobles from around Amaranthine about varying issues of importance. The first few years of her regency here had been rough; with the talking darkspawn and the raids on the city, but so far she had managed to keep a level head and surprise everyone by running the arling smoothly. Stroud would bet his last gold that Seneschal Varel had a big part in teaching the new Warden Commander the ropes of running an arling.

He knocked on the Commander's heavy wooden door and entered when he heard the faint call to come in.

"Commander." He nodded respectfully at the elven woman sitting behind the desk. She smiled at him and bid him to sit in the seat across from her.

"Stroud. I was wondering when you would arrive." She set down the parchment she had been reading and put it in the pile of documents to her side. There was an even larger pile on her other side that would need to be read after the older Grey Warden had left. Work was never finished in the Keep for Taqarah Mahariel.

"We were delayed by a storm for a few days. Luckily, our captain was experienced enough to get us through it."

"I've heard the Waking Sea can be dangerous. Perhaps one day I will be able to sail it. Given I am not drowned under paperwork."

He smiled. Fereldens were so honest he sometimes forgot they did not play the Game. "Well, I am here, should you need help with any of that paperwork."

Her smile grew a little larger. "Aw, Stroud. You are too kind. The First truly does send his best Orlesians to watch over me."

He chuckled. "Do not worry, Commander, I am not here to spy on you. This is merely a stopping point on our journey to Denerim to see the new Warden compound. Have you seen it yet?"

"Yes, I visited Alistair a few months ago. It is quite large and spacious. He wanted to build a statue in my honor, but I was so horrified by the idea he cancelled the plans. I'm sure you will enjoy your visit to Denerim though."

"I am sure I will. While I am here, I was wondering if my Wardens could use your training grounds?"

"Of course, the Keep is for Grey Wardens. Make yourselves at home."

Stroud nodded. "You are too kind. I have one recruit who I am still teaching. He is stubborn, but learning."

"A new recruit?"

"Yes. He was tainted in the Deep Roads under the Free Marches. His sister barely got him to us in time. And he survived the Joining."

Taqarah's ears perked up. "Tainted?"

"Yes. His sister and her companions were foolishly searching the Deep Roads for treasure. Fools. There is a reason most pathways down to the Deep Roads are blocked off. To specifically keep this sort of thing from happening."

Her eye held a faraway look. "Darkspawn are not the only carriers of the taint."

He looked startled and then frowned. "I apologize. I forgot that your circumstances for being recruited were similar. I did not mean to trudge up bad memories."

She smiled sadly and shifted a few papers around. "Not all of them are bad memories." She sighed and looked up at Stroud. "This new recruit. What is his name?"

"Carver Hawke."

"Carver Hawke," she whispered back to herself. "Do you mind if I speak with him?" She knew what it was like to have your entire life thrown away because of the taint. Perhaps he was only stubborn because he did not understand. And as admirable as the Grey Warden was in front of her, she doubted Stroud knew much about loss. Not the way she did. And perhaps this Carver Hawke knew about loss as well.

He looked taken aback, but his expression was quickly concealed behind years of practice. "Of course, Commander. You may find his conversation is rather...frustrating. But if you feel the need to speak with him, you may."

She smiled at Stroud and dismissed him to get back to her never-ending workload. As the papers slipped through her fingers from one pile to the other she thought back to her recruitment into the Grey Wardens. Mostly she thought about Tamlen. She had lost the person closest to her when she was tainted by that Creators forsaken mirror. She wondered what this Carver's story was.

When she could no longer read the words on the page she got up to stretch her legs. She wandered through the corridors of the Keep surrounded by the thick stone walls. It would be a relatively warm day outside, but inside it would stay cool. During the winter the thick walls kept in the warmth of the hundred fires they lit. She liked the keep most during the winter. Her clan hadn't had walls to keep them warm during the cold weather. They would usually travel to warmer climates, but it was always cold at night. She remembered slipping into Tamlen's bed when they were younger. He had been her best friend and though the elders had been scandalized when they found the two of them tucked close together the next morning, she had only been doing it to keep warm. It wasn't until she was much older that she realized her feelings for her best friend ran deeper.

Taqarah walked down the hallways of the Keep. She stretched her legs out into long strides to get the kinks out of them from sitting too long. Before becoming Commander, she had never had to sit for a whole day and it had taken some time and some rough speeches from Seneschal Varel to get her to stay behind the desk for more than an hour. It was a pleasant day outside and she decided she would walk in the courtyard. As she came upon the training yard, she heard the sound of a sword meeting its target. She turned and walked toward the sound. When she rounded the corner she saw a young man swinging his greatsword at one of the many practice dummies set up in the courtyard to help train the Grey Wardens. She watched him from the doorway to the courtyard.

Carver flowed in and out of movements, letting the sword show him where to go next, his mind blissfully blank. Fighting was one of the things he excelled at. In a house full of mages, who used their brains to find new ways to advance their world, fighting was the only thing that made him stand apart. He remembered when he had joined the King's army, how angry and sad his mother had been, how worried Bethany had been, and his sister, she had wished him luck. Fighting in the army was the first time Carver had felt useful. Now he was a Grey Warden and he would show them that he was worth more than any mage. More than his sister.

She leaned against the door frame to the courtyard and watched the young man practice. His whole body responded to the swing of his sword, to the side-step of his immobile opponent. He wasn't as quick as she was, but he was powerful; most humans were. But every Dalish knew that for the brute strength humans had, they possessed speed and agility. Things that came in handy when one was fighting darkspawn, who were nastily fast. She remembered saving Alistair's skin a few times by quickly dispatching a darkspawn before it got him.

Carver heard the rustle of movement out of the corner of his eye and stopped. He turned to see an elf with Vallaslin etched onto her face. A Dalish, like Merrill. His heart constricted with the thought of Merrill, so he put it from his mind. The Dalish was watching him intently, perfectly at ease in her dress with a rough leather corset keeping it in place. He wondered if she was a Warden, then almost hit himself. Why else would a Dalish be in Vigil's Keep if she wasn't a Warden?

She smiled at him. "You must be one of Stroud's Grey Wardens."

Carver nodded and sheathed his sword. He didn't much like practicing with an audience. "I am Carver."

He was surprised when she grinned wider. "Oh, you are Carver." She was pleasantly surprised that the one Grey Warden she had a mind to talk to happened to be before her.

He wondered if she was laughing at him and scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?" Were there already stories going around the Keep about him? He would strangle whoever had been spreading lies. Or maybe Stroud had warned everyone to stay away from him. Maybe he didn't believe in him the way he said.

Her smile dimmed a bit in confusion. Why would he be so angry about her knowing who he was? She was the Warden Commander after all. Then she realized he might not know that. "Stroud mentioned you were his new recruit. I am Taqarah, the Grey Warden Commander in Ferelden."

He blinked several times. He truly was an idiot. He knew the stories of the great Hero of Ferelden; that she was a Dalish. And here he comes across a Dalish and is completely rude. Trying to back track lest Stroud skin him for being rude to their hostess, he said, "I am honored to meet the Hero of Ferelden."

She waved him off. "Please, just Taqarah, or Commander will do." Carver sounded Ferelden to her. She wondered where he was from since Stroud had said he found him under the Free Marches. "Stroud was telling me that you contracted the taint, and that was the reason you became a Grey Warden."

Carver was taken aback. So Stroud had talked to her. He cleared his throat, it would be rude not to tell the Warden Commander his story if she asked. "Um. Yes. We, I mean my sister and I and her friends were excavating some old ruins in the Deep Roads and we...long story short ran across some darkspawn. I got cut on my arm by one of their blades. It wasn't too deep, so I thought I was fine. At least...until I started to feel sick." Carver wasn't looking at the Commander anymore, but at his hands. He remembered feeling so weak and not wanting to tell his sister or the others. He didn't want them to baby him, she already babied him enough. He wanted them to believe he would always be strong. He sighed and looked back up at Taqarah. She was looking at him curiously, like he was a puzzle to sort out.

She gave him a sad smile. "Can you come with me? I'd like to talk to you for a bit, perhaps away from prying eyes and ears." She waited for him to nod before turning and walking out of the courtyard.

They walked down hallways and up stairs. He wondered if he was in trouble. Maybe he hadn't been supposed to tell her, maybe Stroud was keeping it a secret and now he was in trouble. Maybe his sister would be in trouble for going into the Deep Roads. Maybe there was some secret Grey Warden rule that said no one was allowed in the Deep Roads except Grey Wardens. He clamped down on his wayward thoughts when he followed the Commander down a last hallway. There stood a pretty large delicately carved wooden door at the end. The carvings were of trees and he saw a forest setting with Halla and one of those caravans the Dalish used. Taqarah opened the door and beckoned him inside. He felt more nervous than before. What kind of room was this?

Taqarah noticed the Warden's hesitation. "I don't bite, Carver. These are my quarters."

He swallowed and walked through the door.

"Do you want some tea?" She busied herself by the kettle, getting some tea ready for the two of them.

"Uh...sure." Carver walked into the room. He could tell it was some sort of sitting room. There was another door on one end which he guessed led to a bedroom and another door to the latrine. He was most surprised by the wall of pictures. He walked over to it and stared at the paintings. There were paintings of elves, dwarves, humans and even a qunari and golem hanging on the wall. He scanned the paintings.

"Those are paintings of my friends...or companions as some like to call them. They helped me defeat the Blight. The newer ones are the Grey Wardens that helped me defeat the Mother and Architect. Though I don't know if you have heard that story yet. Grey Warden secrets and all that." He turned to see her grinning widely at him as she brought him a cup of tea. "Did you want sugar, or milk?"

He shook his head and took the cup. He noticed one of the paintings he recognized. "This is Anders." He pointed at it.

"Yes, he was one of the first Grey Wardens I recruited. He has an excellent mind and is really good with healing people. Some of his salves are the best I've ever seen."

Carver nodded and moved along the wall. "Well, you know he's in Kirkwall now." Little git. Carver knew he was hiding from the Grey Wardens. He almost smiled at the thought that perhaps now they would go collect him. Would serve his righteous ass right.

Taqarah sipped her tea. "I know." Carver looked back at her surprised. She smiled. "I keep tabs on him, but I'm not going to force anyone to be a Grey Warden. He already is, whether he wants to live by that or not." She shrugged. "In the end...we're all Grey Wardens."

Carver sighed. "In the end," he whispered. He continued along the wall until he found a bunch of pictures of elves, Dalish elves. "Is this your clan?"

"Yes, before I became a Grey Warden. That's actually why..." But Carver wasn't paying attention to her. He was picking up a small painting of a Dalish elf he knew. Merrill stared back at him in the painting, a small smile on her face and her eyes lighting up the way they did. He stared at the painting and heard the sound of a chair being scraped on the ground.

"Do you know her?" Taqarah asked quietly, standing behind Carver and watching him stare intently at the painting.

He nodded, no words coming to his mouth. His mouth felt dry. Merrill. Would he ever see her again? Ever get to talk to her or hear her voice? Sometimes he heard it in his dreams, but he wondered how long that would happen before he forgot what it sounded like.

"She's from my clan."

He glanced up at the Commander. "I-yes. I knew that." Merrill had mentioned that she knew the Hero of Ferelden. He just never thought he would be standing in her room.

Taqarah beckoned him to sit and he did, still staring at the picture in his hands.

"She was with me, you know. When I had the taint." She saw Carver nod and continued. "I-we were looking for...for Tamlen. I didn't know I was sick, but Merrill was convinced we could find him if we just kept looking. I felt so weak, but I couldn't stop looking." Carver closed his eyes. "I lost someone very dear to my heart that day. The day I was recruited into the Grey Wardens." His finger stroked the frame. "And something tells me you know a little about loss too."

Carver nodded. There was no point in keeping it in. "My-my sister. My twin, Bethany." He sighed and looked up at the Commander, his brown eyes pleading with her to understand, to have one person that understood. "We were fleeing the Blight and...an ogre...there wasn't enough time to help her."

She nodded. "Fleeing the Blight? So you are Ferelden. Where are you from?"

"Lothering."

Her breath left her. Lothering. The name of a town she would rather forget. Despite it being filled with shemlen, she hadn't wanted to abandon it. There had been elves there too and her heart had broken for them. The people had been desperate, fear heavy on their hearts. And this...Carver and his family had been there. He had lost his sister because Lothering couldn't be defended. "I'm sorry for your loss."

He looked up at the largest picture she had, Tamlen staring out the painting at her. "I'm sorry for yours as well."

She smiled sadly up at the painting and glanced at Alistair's. "The thing about loss is that it can't be the end of your life as well. I learned that when I became a Grey Warden. Alistair taught me that those that love us never really disappear. And that they would never want you to be unhappy, not if they truly loved you." She saw Carver staring at Merrill's painting again. "Do you care for Merrill?"

He glanced up surprised and then back down at the painting. He stared at it a few moments before frowning. "What does it matter? I'm a Grey Warden now. And she...she still has her whole life ahead of her. I'm sure...I'm sure she'll find someone worthy of her."

"Becoming a Grey Warden is not the end of your life, Carver Hawke. It took me a long time to realize that, but once I did it became easy to find love again. Your life may not be as long as you had hoped, but that just means you have to live in the present more." She smiled at him. "I know Merrill, I grew up with her. I don't see any reason you can't try to make her happy. And if you are happy in the process, all the better."

He looked helpless. He was quiet for some time, thinking over what she said. Finally, he asked quietly, "What do you suggest I do? I mean...I can't even remember what I said to her last. I think I tried to tell a dirty joke and she didn't get it." He sighed and smiled to himself. Ever since their conversation about saying dirty things he had tried desperately to drop innuendos when he could at the Hanged Man. Isabela had found it very amusing and his sister had rolled her eyes at him. Merrill sometimes smiled or when Isabela would spell it out she would laugh. He enjoyed her laugh. He wondered...if things had gone differently, if maybe he might have been something to her.

Taqarah chuckled. "You should try writing to her. Distance shouldn't be an issue for you two. And Merrill always had her head in books, so I'm sure she would enjoy getting a letter from you."

He smiled down at the painting. "Maybe I will." Then he looked up at the Commander. "So you asked me to come up here to talk about..."

She laughed. "I like getting a feel for the new Wardens. And I wanted to let you know that I know what it's like to go through the taint. It's not fun. I did not, however, expect you to know my clan."

"They are staying outside of Kirkwall."

"Yes, I had heard that. I still stay in touch with my Keeper. I also heard Merrill moved into the city. It is just strange for humans to involve themselves with Dalish. The only human I knew who did was Duncan, and he had the respect of my clan because he was a Grey Warden."

Carver snorted. "My sister gets herself involved in a lot of things she shouldn't."

Taqarah smiled indulgently at him. "Except in this case, had your sister not gotten involved with the Dalish, you would not have met Merrill."

He looked thoughtfully down at the painting and smiled as he shook his head. "I suppose you're right about that."

Taqarah got up. She had taken enough time out of the day and Varel would throw a fit if she didn't get back to her paperwork. Carver stood up and went to replace the painting. "You should keep that."

"A-are you sure?"

She smiled kindly at him. "Of course. I think you need it more than I do. As you can see," she motioned to the other paintings, "I have plenty of reminders of the people in my life. I can spare one painting for you to have a reminder of those in yours. Perhaps this is a start for your own collection."

"I doubt that, but thank you." He held the painting gingerly in his hands, as if afraid that now that it was his, he might break it.

Carver left the Commander's rooms and headed to his. After putting the painting next to his bed he went back down to the practice courtyard where Stroud was waiting for him. The man was convinced he could turn Carver into the fitting image of a Grey Warden soldier. Carver had his doubts, but he respected the Orlesian too much to say anything.

Hours after practicing and then a loud dinner in the Hall with all the Grey Wardens eating like it was their last meal, Carver sat at the small desk in his room staring at the blank parchment.

_Merrill,_

No that sounded too informal.

_Dear Merrill,_

What was he, her mother? He threw the quill on the desk and put his head down. If he couldn't figure out how to start the letter, how was he going to finish it?

* * *

_Hey Merrill,_

_ How are you? Is the Alienage treating you alright? Any more rats in your house that you need someone to get out? If you do, go ask Varric, I'm sure he knows someone who can help you. Have you been getting lost? How did that yarn work out that he gave you? _

_ Being a Grey Warden is fine. Sometimes I miss the Hanged Man, not my sister, but you know, the trouble we used to get into. I'm at Vigil's Keep in Amaranthine and then we are heading to Denerim so if you want to write to me you can address your letters there since we will probably be there for a few months. I met Taqarah today and we talked about you, all good things, don't worry. She's pretty nice for someone who saved everyone from a Blight. I wasn't expecting that. _

_ I hope you're doing well. Write to me if you get the chance. _

_ -Carver_

"So whose the letter from, Daisy?" Varric had handed her the letter a few moments earlier and watched her face light up as she read it.

She smiled widely at him. "It's from Carver!" She looked down at the letter again and grinned. "Oh, I can't believe he wrote to me. I wonder if he knows I never get any letters, you know I do like getting letters. Maybe he was just being polite." She looked at Varric, "Do you think he's just being polite? He says I can write back to him, in Denerim. Maybe I will."

Varric chuckled. "I think he wrote to you because he wanted to, Daisy. He hasn't written to his sister yet."

"He hasn't written to Hawke?"

The dwarf shook his head and the Dalish looked curiously down at the letter. "I think I will write back to him."

* * *

_Hi Carver,_

_ Thank you for the letter! I love getting letters, though I'm glad you sent it to the Hanged Man, because I don't think they deliver mail in the Alienage. I hope you're having fun with the Grey Wardens. Anders is always going on about how serious they are all the time, but I'm sure you've made them laugh. You always make me laugh so I'm sure they have enjoyed your charming personality. The Alienage is well. It's spring so a few flowers grew before someone picked them and sold them up at the market. Maybe next year I'll pick one before they get sold and just keep it. _

_ I have been using the yarn Varric gave me. It works really well, except when someone cuts it. People also sometimes curse at me because they say they trip on it. I don't understand why they don't use yarn as well. Kirkwall's such a big city, how does everyone know where they are going all the time? _

_And I haven't had any more rats, I just put a spell on all the cracks in my house. Don't worry the templars never come into the Alienage so no one will know. Anders said that Denerim is even bigger than Kirkwall, is that true? Have you gotten lost yet? Maybe I should send you some yarn. _

_ From,_

_ Merrill_

Carver smiled at the letter, he loved the way Merrill's handwriting looped and swirled. It felt fun and light, just like her. They had arrived in Denerim a few weeks ago and he had gotten lost. He thought she would like that. But he would tell her not to send yarn and that he could buy his own.

Stroud had been training him daily and it definitely had taken it's toll. His entire body had built up and when he looked in the mirror he noticed his jaw was more defined and he looked older. He wondered what his sister would say if she saw him now.

Stroud said that they would likely be there for months before the First sent a letter. Then they would head to Orlais. He had to admit that after hearing stories about the Orlesians his whole life, Carver was a little excited to see their cities. Though, if they were all like Stroud he would be very disappointed.

* * *

There was a knock on Merrill's door and she froze. Knocks were not something that happened often to her. Hawke would just walk in and Varric would bang on the door and tell her to open up. Knocks were scary and new. Knocks meant strangers. She walked fearfully towards the door. What if it was the templars, finally come to collect her? Varric had paid someone to put a small hole in the door at her eyesight, he said many of the wealthier families had one and he thought she could use it. Peephole is what he called it and she had giggled like mad. Now she carefully glanced through the hole and saw a mass of dark hair and blue and silver. Her heart stopped and she threw open the door to reveal none other than Carver Hawke.

"Carver!" She shouted throwing her arms around him. He laughed and easily picked her up. His letters this past year had been wonderful. She always read them each a hundred times until they had little creases and she feared they would fall apart. She wondered if he read her letters just as carefully. Probably not, but it was a nice thought. When he put her down she was out of breath and she couldn't stop smiling at him. "What are you doing here? In Kirkwall?"

He smiled at her and closed her door. "We are stopping here for a few days on our way to Orlais. Stroud has some business in the city."

She was still beaming at him, but suddenly a wave of nervousness washed over her. She started feeling self-conscious about the state of her small house as she saw him looking around. It hadn't improved much in the few years that he had been gone with the Grey Wardens. She tried picking up a few things on the ground and looking around for places to hide them. "H-have you visited your sister?" She found a pot and stuffed the socks and scarf down into it.

He barked out a laugh. "I'm sure she's too busy to visit with her younger brother. Don't tell her I'm here, ok?"

She frowned. "Ok, if that's what you want. But you're visiting me."

"Do you want me not to?" He was slightly disappointed that the first thing she asked about was his sister.

She turned, worried by his tone. "No. Of course I want you to be here...I mean...visiting me...you're always welcome here."

He smiled and ran his hand through his hair. "Listen, I-uh. I don't have a lot of time. Stroud said only a few minutes. We're aren't supposed to go anywhere alone."

"Oh." She frowned, she didn't want him to leave. He had only just gotten here after all. "Um...you look good, I mean healthy. I guess they feed you a lot...not that you're fat. On the contrary you look really good, not that you didn't look good before, I just..."

He laughed and walked over to her. She looked up at this big human as he put his arms around her and gave her a strong hug. "I missed you too, Merrill," he whispered into her hair. She blushed and he broke the hug.

"Will you keep writing to me?" she asked, nervous that he was leaving already.

"Yes. I will write to you as soon as I get into Orlais and give you the place to send letters. Most likely it will be the Warden complex in Orlais, but you know Orlesians, they like to have special names for places."

"I don't actually think I've met any Orlesians. I hear they're very fancy and that they have nice teeth."

He chuckled. "I haven't heard anything about their teeth, but I'll let you know."

They stood there awkwardly for a few moments.

"Um...listen I really should...get going." He wished he had more time.

"Oh. Yes. I shouldn't keep you. You'll...you'll keep writing won't you?"

"Of course." He walked towards the door and Merrill watched him go. She wished she had the courage to say what she wanted, but what if he didn't feel the same?

Carver paused at the door. He didn't know when he would be back in Kirkwall or when he would see her again. He remembered Taqarah's words, _Your life may not be as long as you had hoped, but that just means you have to live in the present more._ He turned around and marched back up to Merrill.

"I have feelings for you." He saw her huge elven eyes widen a bit more. The beautiful green making his heart constrict. He would live in the present and he would not regret anything.

Merrill opened her mouth several times and closed it. Then a half strangled laugh came out and she threw her arms around Carver, kissing him soundly.

He stood dumbstruck for several moments before pulling her closer and returning the embrace.


End file.
